


Broken Ribs and Black Eyes

by BuckysMyBoy



Series: Steve Rogers Can Be A Pain in the Ass [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Canon charecter death, Disciplinary Spanking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Spanking, non sexual spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-25 22:25:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18710905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckysMyBoy/pseuds/BuckysMyBoy
Summary: Steve is being self destructive and Bucky decides it's finally time to do something about it





	Broken Ribs and Black Eyes

Steve stumbled with shaking knees. Bucky was definitely angry with him, held him tightly around the wrist while they walked at a very quick pace home. He wanted to say it was hurting his ankle to walk this fast... and his cut up leg and his bruised chest and his tired lungs. Every quick step was a shot of pain from the floor up, every step too hard. He didn't say anything. He knew that would only make Bucky - who seemed more and more angry with each step - more irritated with him. It was also a pride thing. Bucky could obviously see that the fight he had got into had hurt him but admitting that it did was a different thing. That and he had no one to blame but himself for that, but again, he would never admit it.

"Buck, look, I'm sorry but -" he went to go into an explanation that those guys had been picking on some girl. Those five giant, older, almost six foot guys picking on a girl that was the same size as Steve. Neither of them had any power over those guys. Bucky barely did either, even in his healthy state. Bucky had almost been the same height as the guys but had been overpowered in numbers. The only reason they got away is because the girl had already ran, so they decided to too. Bucky grabbed his wrist and ran, only stopping when Steve started to wheeze in warnings of an asthma attack. The guys hadn't chased them but Bucky had barely slowed down.

"Shut your goddamn mouth unless you want to be in more trouble." Bucky said, tugging harder on his arm. "And don't you dare wipe your bloody nose on your sleeve. That shirt is white, it won't come clean."

Steve didn't say a word the whole rest of the way home, tried his best not to wheeze either. Bucky swung the apartment door open quickly, pulled Steve inside, and shut it just as quickly.

Bucky turned to face Steve, using the wrist he was squeezing to pull him close, very close. Their noses touched, he felt guilt pool in his stomach when he saw the bruises on Bucky's face, the scrape on his left cheek and the cut under his ear. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"My problem? -" Steve sounded offended.

"Yes," Bucky cut in with venom and he realized offended probably wasn't way to act at the moment, but he didn't care.

"- What was I supposed t' do? Just let them do whatever they wanted to that girl, let her get hurt?"

"You were looking for a fight, Steve. I was standing right there, don't think I didn't notice."

"What do you mean?" He asked still offended even though he knew exactly what Bucky was getting at.

"You marched your tiny ass right up to those guys and basically asked them to beat the shit out of you," Bucky dragged him closer by the collar of his shirt. "Maybe don't run in fists flying and try using that head of yours." Bucky hit the flat of his palm not holding Steve's shirt over the side of Steve's head. It wasn't enough to really hurt, just to make his head move slightly. "I know you ain't stupid, so what's your problem? Most guys would probably leave if you called them out."

"Buck, that's not true and you know it."

"How would you know, you run in and just throw punches."

"Buck -"

"Shut up, okay, you don't even have room to defend yourself. Look at you." He gently ran his fingers over the dark bruise on Steve's jaw, on his cheeks and around his eye. He avoided the cut on his forehead and the other one over his eyebrow, also the blood consistently pouring from his nose. Steve frowned at him.

"Stevie," Bucky's voice shifted to something soft and sad, and his head thumped on his shoulder for a moment, taking a moment to cuddle close to him. Steve held back a wince when Bucky's forehead hit a bruise, he still relaxed at the closeness. "Don't start actin' like an idiot and getting into fights just to get hurt, 'kay?"

"I'm sorry." He wasn't really sorry for getting into a fight but it felt like the right thing to say

"No you aren't."

"I'm sorry that you got hurt too... and that I made you worry."

"I know, punk, we're gonna deal with that in a bit but -"

"What do you mean?"

"- first, you needa clean up. Let's go." He tugged Steve gently by the wrist, the same one that was still throbbing from Bucky's tight grip earlier.

"Wh - what - where..." he trailed off, confused.

"Quiet."

Steve followed with dragging feet behind Bucky but a silent mouth. They ended up in the bathroom with the door shut behind them. Bucky started with the buttons on Steve's shirt, throwing it on the floor in a pile before looking up and down at Steve's dozen or so bruises on his stomach and chest, thankfully none of them were that bad. "Good," he muttered, to himself more than to Steve, "no cuts. A few nasty bruises, though."

"It ain't that bad, Buck."

Bucky looked at him, some kind of challenge in his eyes. "I told you to be quiet." He poked at a purple shoe shaped bruise on Steve's ribs. The smaller shielded away but didn't make a sound.

"Not that bad, huh?"

Steve dropped his eyes to the ground, cheeks flushing red. He shook his head.

"Alright, punk, whatever you say." Bucky placed gentle hands on Steve's shoulders, pushing him to go sit on the counter of the sink. Steve would usually protest about Bucky making a fuss over his injuries but right now he couldn't feel past the steadily building guilt. He made Bucky get into a fight for no reason. Well, Steve had a reason. He wanted to feel something other than grief over his mother. But Bucky had gotten hurt too. Not as bad as Steve had, Steve had mostly been letting them hit him - but that wasn't important. Bucky got hurt protecting him. Him. Steve. He couldn't even begin to -

"You okay in there?" Bucky asked, voice even softer than when it shifted earlier. He wiped a cloth under Steve's nose, handling it gently because he knew Steves nose would probably be sore and swell a little later. He cleaned the blood from in between Steve's nose and mouth and some of it that had run onto his lips.

Steve nodded his head, then shrugged after a moment of thinking.

"Steve, you gotta use your words."

" 'M just tired, Bucky, I wanna sleep."

Bucky frowned at the lie, then he wiped at the two barely bleeding anymore cuts on Steve's forehead and eyebrow. He used a barely clean corner of the ruined cloth. Then, he threw it into a pile with Steve's dirty shirt.

"I want you to go sit on the couch. If these," he pointed at the bruises on Steve's chest, "start hurting too much, come get me. Other than that, I want you to sit quiet and still. Got me?"

"Yeah," Steve said, obviously confused, but his voice was small and sounded like he was ready to just listen.

"Good, go on," Bucky grabbed his hips and unnecessarily helped him down from the sink counter.

Steve opened the bathroom door and shut it silently behind him, wrapping his arms around himself because of the lack of shirt on him. He walked out to their living room and squirmed on the couch. Bucky always let him do whatever he wanted afterwards, usually just scolded him on the way home or right after he walked in the door. This time he had barely done anything and now Steve was sitting on the couch, waiting for Bucky to come back out here.

He sat there for maybe a quarter of an hour before he heard Bucky's footsteps. Steve stared up at Bucky when he walked into the living room. The older gave him a hard stare but he didn't say anything, he just set a hairbrush onto the table in front of the couch. Steve felt his stomach fall in dread, he thinks he knew what Bucky was planning to do now but would Bucky really... probably not.

"Buc -"

"I told you to come out here and be quiet. I haven't told you to talk, so, stay quiet."

He could only nod his head once and look down to the ground. It was silent for a beat and Steve squirmed under Bucky's stare. He really wanted to ask if Bucky was mad at him.

"I'm gonna talk and you're gonna listen, not a word from you. Listen, okay?"

Steve just nodded again, cheeks flushing and his ears felt hot too. Bucky stayed standing, towering over Steve - he would no matter if Steve was standing or not - and his stare was making Steve want to shrink into himself and hide.

"You scared me, Punk. Goin' out and getting int' fights. I hate it but not... I don't..." Bucky sighed, then admitted, "I was rehearsing this in my head on the way home but I was angry. I'm not anymore. I don't know how to make this not sound like I'm giving you permission to go out there and get your ass beat."

Steve frowned but still couldn't bring himself to look at Bucky. He wanted to ask what he meant but he remembered that he wasn't allowed to talk, so he let Bucky think for a second.

"I guess what I want you to do is be safe. I don't want you comin' home everyday beaten and hurt, I don't wanna think what could happen if your out there stupid and careless."

Bucky was quiet for a long time, as if he wanted to say something else but didn't know how. "You're my best friend, only reason I know what the hell I'm doing half the time, why I'm here." Steve smiled softly and felt himself blush a different kind of embarrassed. Warm and fuzzy instead of ashamed.

"I don't want you to just completely stop fighting. I know you won't, it's not how you are. If you saw something that you thought was wrong I would expect no less than for you to open that big mouth of yours." Steve smiled and continued to blush warm. Bucky was a sap sometimes, it was kind of funny.

"But if you're gonna open that mouth of yours, please be smart about it. Call them out first don't just go in swingin' and shoutin'. That's gonna get you nowhere but the hospital."

Bucky reached down for the brush he had sat on the table, let Steve stare at it for a second. Steve glanced up at Bucky, wide and nervous eyes, as Bucky sat down next to him.

"You get what I just said?" Bucky touched the back of his neck with his larger hands. Steve's gaze drift up from the hair brush Bucky was holding in his lap up to Bucky's stern gray eyes.

Steve frowned, then shrugged. Bucky urged him on with an encouraging look in his eyes, Steve assumed that was permission to talk.

"Uh, I - I think so."

"Do I needa tell you again?" It could have been a threat or a question with only one right answer, Steve wasn't sure.

He went to nod for Bucky to explain it again but stopped himself. Maybe he was supposed to say he got it. He thinks he did but he was a bit tired and easily relaxing while Bucky took care of him. It was strange, it was this stern kind of disciplinary care that made it feel like Bucky was more in charge than him. He didn't really mind, he trusted Bucky to handle it.

"Use your words, Steve."

"Uh, no, I think I got it."

"I care 'bout you too much to let you do destructive shit like this." He pulled the hand on the back of Steve's neck higher, making Steve look him in the eye.

"If you haven't figured out what the hair brush is for -" Steve nodded, otherwise not interrupting Bucky. "Okay, good, see you are smart sometimes." Bucky said in more of a teasing way. Steve felt his ears get warm. "I'm gonna punish you." He clarified, more serious. Steve had know he was going to get a spanking the second he saw the brush. Bucky had never done anything like this to him before but the role seemed to come natural for Bucky. Steve had knew and he felt safe but he still didn't want to be put over Bucky's knee and spanked like a child.

"You can tell me no, right now, and I'll go put this," Bucky moved the brush in his hand to being attention to it, "away. I'll leave you alone for the rest of the night, pretend that you didn't even get into this fight."

Steve tried to tip his head down, avoid eye contact with Bucky. All the older did was cup the back of his neck tighter and pull his face close.

"I'm not done talking."

Steve nodded, knowing this wasn't the to interpret Bucky with an okay. He drifted his eyes up to Bucky's gray ones, he found no sympathy.

He didn't want to be left alone. He felt to guilty and wanted Bucky to make it better, forgive him. He squirmed a bit, moving his hips, wanting to get away. He felt so vulnerable sitting here like this, so close to Bucky, emotions so readable with his eyes up close.

"Or I can take you over my knee right now, give you a long spanking until you're ready to admit that you are being self destructive and until -"

"I'm not being self destructive, Buck, I'm just -"

"You're not talking right now, just listening." Bucky said, interrupting Steve the same way he interrupted him. He wanted to slap Steve right across the face for speaking multiple times after they both agreed for him to be silent. "And you are being self destructive. There is no reason for you to let yourself get your ass beat everyday because of fights over tiny things. So shut your mouth until I'm finished talking or I'm not gonna give you a choice about going over my knee or not."

The weight of everything he had done crashed down on him. He knew he was fighting a lot, it was the only thing he could feel things. Painful fists, broken ribs, black eyes, bruises everywhere. He could feel them for a while afterwards too, pressing into bruises when the familiar feeling of lonely numbness came back. He knows it was grief from his mother dying just two months ago. He also knew that it was guilt too. He could have done more for her, worked harder, ignored his sickness in favor of getting more hours at work. He could have paid for better treatment for her and maybe he wouldn't have to be living with Bucky at sixteen years old - almost seventeen- hoping no one figured out that he wasn't eighteen yet. Bucky was eighteen, that's the only reason they could be in this cheap apartment right now, Bucky was old enough to sign for it. He hadn't been a good friend either. He was living off of Bucky, not able to keep a job because of sickness and school ("Oh hell no, you wouldn't let me drop out of school and you have only two years left. No way you are dropping out, you're going to finish just like I was forced to.").

"I can put you over my knee, give you a long spanking until you are ready to admit that you're being self destructive and until I'm ready for it to be over. Then, afterwards, you'll be forgiven. I won't be mad with you for fighting constantly for no reason and you can let that guilt leave your eyes. Clean slate after."

Steve squirmed again, damn Bucky and his weird ability to read Steve no matter how hard he tried to hide what he was feeling. He wanted a clean slate but Bucky wasn't a fool, he knew how strong Steve actually was. How much he would be able to take and how long he would be able to lay over Bucky's lap until it was too much. He knew spankings were supposed to hurt but whenever his mom had spanked him before, she held back. She was afraid to hurt her poor little sick Stevie. He knew Bucky was aware that he could hurt Steve, but he didn't have that same fear. He wouldn't hold back.

"So, what'll it be? If you don't choose soon, I'm gonna choose for you."

He wanted a clean slate, he wanted Bucky to forgive him, he didn't care how. If that meant a spanking, then he would lay over Bucky's knee. However, he didn't want to just admit that. He wanted Bucky to choose for him, to grab his wrist, take him over his knee and just smack him until all the guilt and unnecessary feelings were gone. He just couldn't admit it.

But Bucky and his mind reading ability. He grabbed Steve's wrist and easily manoeuvred him to lay across his knee. He was nervous for a second, in this position he barely had much support so he didn't fall. Too much squirming and he might end up on the floor. It also felt weird for his lower half to be high than his head and be more stable than his upper half.

Bucky slipped his hand under Steve and unbuttoned his pants. They were quickly pulled down around his ankles, same with his underwear, leaving him embarrassingly bare and exposed. He felt his face heat up and he hid it in Bucky thigh as best he could.

Bucky pet over his lower back a few times, until he could feel Steve's muscles relax slightly. The first smack came with no warning, Bucky was still rubbing one hand over Steve's lower back, then all of the sudden, with his other hand he brought the flat, solid wood of the back of the brush done hard on Steve's left cheek. Steve felt his body jerk forward out of shock, then fear when he thought his body was going to tip forward. Bucky, however, wouldn't let him fall like that, just kept a firm hand in Steve's back. He let the brush stay against the gently tingling skin for a second, the sound of it fading dramatically from Steve's ears, before he lifted it again. He lifted it and smacked it down again on the opposite cheek, Steve didn't jerk forward this time.

It continued from there, Bucky's hand stopped rubbing his back but still laid a hand on his back - it felt like a reminder to stay still. Bucky didn't leave the brush to linger anymore, he smack it down in one side, then immediately lifted it and brought it down on the same spot on Steve's other cheek.

Bucky got all the way to seventeen before Steve's feet started to push themselves around, trying to stop himself from kicking. Bucky got to twenty-four before Steve involuntarily kicked his feet up.

"Don't kick." Bucky warned, pausing the strokes. Steve's ass was already going from a light blush to a darker red. It was only that red on the peak of his ass, the rest of him - sit spots and thighs - was only pale skin. He planned on waiting until Steve was crying until he worked his was down to the pale skin on his thighs.

Steve nodded and let legs fall down to the floor again, tips of his toes barely touching the floor with how much Bucky had shifted him forward to get a better angle.

Bucky continued, smacking the brush down over Steve's blushing red ass. He got nine more strokes before Steve was kick again, wrapping a hand around Bucky's ankle to avoid throwing it backwards to protect his bottom from the endless smacks.

Bucky had warned him once, he easily lifted Steve's hips enough for him to get one leg out from under the boy. He tucked Steve's legs in between his own, an easy way to stop him from kicking. He continued the spanking wordlessly.

He got up to forty-four, before he heard a small barely audible sniff from Steve. He'd obviously started to cry, either from pain or just a release of emotions or both.

"We're not done," Bucky warned before he started to talk.

Steve nodded and sniffed again, shifting back as much as possible with his legs still pinned in between Bucky's, to hide his face in Bucky's thigh again.

"Are we starting to think that maybe we should be a bit more careful when picking fights?"

"Yes," Steve said, voice suspiciously close to a sob. " 'M sorry, sorry. I'll be better, I won't - won't go out of the way to get into a fight. I'll be careful, promise, Bucky."

"Oh," Bucky said, placing the brush on Steve's ass again as a warning. "I know you won't, Punk. I think that message was clear." Bucky smacked the brush down, then left it to rest against Steve's ass again.

Bucky wasn't close to being done. Now that Steve understood, he wanted to understand. Steve got the point, to be careful in fights and about starting them. Bucky wanted to know why he had been so careless all of the sudden. He thinks he knows why but he knew part of the 'clean slate' would be Steve saying these things out loud and working through them. So Bucky simply told him that.

"I'm gonna keep going Stevie." That earned a small choked off sound that totally wasn't a sob. "Unless you're willing to tell me why you've been getting in so many fights."

"They we gonna hurt her."

"It hadn't gotten to that stage yet." Two strikes where his thighs met his ass, he squirmed, the feeling of the unmarked skin tingling instead of sting was weird.

"They were, no doubt about it, but it wasn't happening yet." Three, four, five, six more. "They were still on the street, calling out at her. You didn't even try to make them screw off." Seven, eight, nine, ten. Then Bucky moved down to his thighs, all the way to sixteen.

"You went on and let them beat the crap out of you. Who knows what those assholes would have done if I wasn't with you. You made no effort to defend yourself at all." Then he continued on, firm quick strokes, smacking down on Steve's thighs until he was openly sobbing, not trying to hide it anymore.

Steve was about to reach his breaking point, he was squirming and trying to kick his legs. His hand was tight around Bucky's leg, squeezing tighter around his ankle each hit, as if trying to restrain himself from reaching back to cover his ass.

Bucky continued, hitting harder and harder, making his way steadily back up to the inevitability bruised peak of Steve's ass. The first smack on the cherry red center of Steve's ass hand him throwing the hand that had been gripping Bucky's ankle back to try and stop the constant painful rhythm of hits. Bucky seemed to expect it because before Steve could even touch his ass, his arm was twisted and pinned to his back. Bucky didn't even stop his rhythm, while Steve struggled and squirmed. It was too much, overwhelming him with emotions brought out in their true form, full force by grounding pain.

That seemed to be it for Steve. He realized Bucky wasn't going to stop and the only way to get him to was to be honest. Tell him the root of his problem. That wasn't what he wanted to do but he didn't know how much more of this he could take before... he didn't even know. The stinging ache was going to unbearable soon.

"Please, Bucky," he said, voice embarrassingly high pitched. "I'm sorry, the fights - I wanted to - I don't know. I wanted to be hurt, I wanted -" he sobbed more, barely even able to notice that Bucky had slowed his rhythm. He was barely even smacking Steve now, just lifting his arm a few inches and letting gravity do the work. The brush was only falling now so Steve would know not to stop talking, otherwise Bucky would starting hitting harder again. "I wanted to feel something other than guilty."

"Hm, 'bout what?" The brush was still there, as a encouragement to keep talking.

Steve sobbed again, louder and too emotional for it to be from pain. Bucky stopped with the brush, just letting it lay against Steve's bottom. "After my Ma died, you just - you left your house and family for me. So I didn't have to go to the orphanage. Now we're poor and I can't keep a job, and you're out there working while I go and pick fights and - and I keep getting sick, and - and - and -"

He choked, couching and wheezing and sniffing.

"And?" Bucky asked, striking his thumb over Steve's wrist that was still pinned to his back.

Steve took a few wheezing breaths, having to focus on Bucky's thumb gently on his wrist, before he could answer. "And I can't help but think that what if I tried harder to keep a job and spent more hours working. So that we could have afforded better treatment for her."

"You were sick." Bucky pointed out.

"I'm sick all the time, I coulda ignored it more or just worked though -" one smack on his sore sit spots got his attention.

"Your mom was not about to let you work yourself to death while she was on her deathbed herself, and you know it."

"I know, just - just... what if?" Then Steve was sobbing again. "She could still be here. And we wouldn't have to worry. We could have dinner every night and not worry about rent. You could still be living with your family and not worry all the time, you wouldn't be in this illegal situation. You wouldn't have to worry about them figuring out I'm only seventeen and belong in the orphanage."

"Sixteen." Bucky chuckled, "you're only sixteen. And they don't really care. All those orphans run away when they're fourteen anyway."

"I know it's just if they find you you're gonna be in trouble and they -"

Steve heard the hairbrush thunk on the ground and felt Bucky's hands wrap around his sides. He was easily manhandled into sitting up straight and straddling Bucky's lap so his raw bottom didn't brush over anything. Bucky's hands stayed firm on his sides, rubbing the skin there as Steve struggled to make eye contact, ashamed with himself, his emotions, his behavior, his lack of clothes, everything.

Bucky's hands moved from Steve's side to cup his face. To wipe the tears that had stained his face and started to give him a tired headache. There were still tears dripping and slipping fast down his face and Bucky was quick to palm them away as fast as they came.

"You feelin' better?"

"Strangely, yeah."

"Good." Bucky's arms were wrapped tight around Steve's waist now, rubbing up and down his back. He avoid rubbing his ass, wanting to let the sting of it settle in for a while.

Steve didn't stop crying, he wasn't sobbing and wheezing anymore though. Bucky let him, continuing with strong hands up and down Steve's back. He felt Steve relax more and more, until he was just a boneless puddle in Bucky's lap. He was sure Steve was sleep and was about to pick him up and carry him to their shared bed when Steve spoke softly in his ear.

"Thanks, Buck. I'm sorry to trouble you with all 'a this."

 

 

Bucky just hugged him tighter, picking him up after a moment and carried him to bed. Steve laid on top of Bucky, who laid flat on his back. Steve stayed quiet the rest of the night, falling asleep with his nose buried in Bucky's neck and Bucky's arms tight and assuring around him. 

**Author's Note:**

> It took a lot of confidence on my part to post this so please be nice. I'm so embarrassed/worried to post this so I may delete it if it doesnt get a positive reaction


End file.
